


La Douleur Exquise

by LordFlausch



Series: araignée du soir [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward situations, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 14:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11293059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordFlausch/pseuds/LordFlausch
Summary: The relationship with Widowmaker has been going on for a good while now... and there is something called feelings.





	La Douleur Exquise

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone of you wonder why the fifth and fourth part were posted on the same day, this is thanks to the fact I had written this one about a month ago already and want to post them in a chronological order.

Keeping something secret is always a hardship.  
Especially when said something is a relationship with an enemy and said enemy just loves to show her dominance through marks on your body, smugly enjoying your struggle to keep things secret.  
She is like a drug, a deadly, beautiful drug you are addicted to, managing to pull you close, to keep you with her although every rational thought screams to get away. 

You sigh and unwrap the scarf from your neck that covers the remaining traces of the hickeys she left at your last meeting. They are almost faded away completely, and absentmindedly you trace your finger along them, remembering when she placed them there.

_"You are mine, chérie."_

_Her husky voice sounded close to your ear, and you could feel her breath on the shell, a shiver running down your spine. You were not able to do anything but nod, eyes closed as her fingers sent sparks of pleasure inside of you. The cool bedroom air touched the spot she just sucked on, and you felt a slight throb of pain there. She licked over the bruise that began to form._

_"Say it."_

_She commanded,whispering the words onto your skin, and you had to obey, as always. When you opened your mouth, your voice was shaky._

_"I-I am yours."_

You look into the mirror again, and a soft sigh leaves your lips to the memory.  
She is on a mission since you have last seen her. She always comes to you beforehand. As if for luck, as if for notice, she marks you to remember who it is you belong to.

_"Not quite, chérie."_

_Her voice was tinted with a trace of disappointment, yet a hint of enjoyment sounded in it as well._

_"Again, this time correctly, s'il te plaît."_

_The purr underlined with the accent had more shivers on your spine, and you licked your lips, preparing to speak._

_"I-"_

_Just in that moment, she fastened the pace of her fingers, expertly hitting all the right points over and over again, turning your thoughts to mush and your sentence to a moan of pleasure._

_"You...?"_

_It was all on purpose. She enjoyed seeing your struggle. She always made it hard for you, and she enjoyed herself greatly, loving every moment of it. And she knew you loved it as well._

_"F-fuck..."_

_A sharp pain in your shoulder cleared your mind a bit. When her mouth left your skin, her eyes locked with yours that had flown open._  
_You focused on the yellow orbs that almost seemed to glow in the dim light._

_"I am yours, Widowmaker."_

_Your reward was a smile... and an orgasm._

That encounter had been two weeks ago. And you curse the fact you cannot find out where she is, what she is doing. It isn't like you can just call at her working place and ask for her.  
She is your enemy, yet you cannot see her as such anymore. Her lips tell a different story every single time.  
What if she is dead? If her body lies broken in an alleyway, or if she was shot? A tear of worry slips past your eyelid, another follows, and a next one until a steady flow is set.  
The first sob escapes your lips as you head into the bathroom to wash away the sweat of the day. 

_Focus. Would she want to see me like this?_

Your clothes fall to the ground. You shoot a glimpse into the mirror. You don't look to good.  
Eyes red and puffy from crying, bags under them from sleepless nights full of worries.  
Traces of tears on your cheeks.  
The bite mark on your shoulder is still visible. 

_What does she see in me? Why does she risk a scandal in Talon just to be with me? Does she love me? Do I love her?_

You chuckle humourlessly and step into the shower, warm water running down on your body.  
Hating to feel like this, yet being drawn to the reason for those feelings. A vicious circle, one that manages to bring you great pain and great pleasure just almost equally.

Something makes a noise in the apartment. You turn the water off, alarmed, and wait for a minute, listening intently for another sound that isn't the one of droplets or your body..  
Nothing.  
Wishful imagination of Widowmaker being back.  
Under the control of your hand, the water flows again.  
You pray for her to come back every night, every day, every second you breathe. She cannot be dead. You wouldn't be able to handle it. And your grief would give your secret away. That would be the mark no scarf could hide from your friend, from your work. From Overwatch. 

"What a sight..."

A voice comes from behind you, and a cool hand traces down your back, pulling a shiver behind it. A soft gasp leaves your lips as hers place themselves on your shoulder.  
Her arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against her body.  
She is as naked as you are. 

"You are back..."

"I am, chérie." 

You turn around to look into her eyes that are piercing yours in a cold, yet gentle gaze. One of her hands leaves your back to place itself on your cheek, and she leans in to lay her lips on yours.  
Without hesitation, you kiss back, wrapping your arms around her and deepening the kiss.  
When her tongue licks over your bottom lip in a demanding way, you open your mouth immediately, meeting it with your own.  
Her body presses against yours, pushing you back against the shower wall. You moan into her mouth when you realise what will happen, what she is planning to do, and she chuckles in response and breaks the kiss.  
You whimper at the loss, and her eyes glint with that sadistic glow that tells you the sound will not be the last one you made tonight.

"You are back..."

You whisper again, and she tilts your head up, exposing your throat, and bows down to whisper against it. 

"Do not talk anymore. Unless I order you to." 

With that words, she bites the soft skin rather forcefully, making you gasp and moan when she starts sucking to leave a fresh mark.  
Her hands wander up to your breasts and begin to knead and scrape them, making your knees go weak.  
You struggle to keep standing, grabbing the small shelf in the shower. Your other arm wraps around her for support, but she immediately pulls back then and takes your wrist.

"No touching."

You nod breathlessly. She already has you aroused, craving her touch, and she is well aware of that.  
You want to beg her to continue, but remember her orders. Do not talk.  
She turns off the water in the shower and takes the soap from the shelf, pouring some into her hand. 

"Turn around, chérie."

You obey instantly, and feel her front pressing against your back soon after, her hands onto your stomach, rubbing the soap on it.  
That is just the start.  
They go for your breasts next, giving extra attention to your already hard nipples, twisting and pressing them until it is slightly painful yet still immensely sensual, making various moans and whimpers of pleasure and want leave your throat while you press an arm onto the wall for support as it gets harder to stand with every passing second.  
She continues covering your upper body in soap, leaving slight scratch marks occasionally.  
You can't help but let the noises escape your lips, and she takes them in with a smirk on her face you cannot see but feel on your ear shell along with her cold breaths.  
She turns on the water again and you motion to wash off, but she slaps your hands down and waits patiently until the traces are all rinsed off.

"Turn back to me."

Her order is followed on point, and surprised, you notice she is balancing on one knee, soap covering her hands.  
She places them on your hips and drags them down to your ankles, then focuses on your left leg first, your right one after that, smearing the soap on both, and yet again, scratch marks stay every here and there.  
Still, she avoids your nether regions at all costs, which only entices you further, making you impatiently await the moment she will finally touch there.  
She rinses off the soap on your legs and keeps down, yet a single eye contact tells everything about who is in control.

Widowmaker.  
She always is.  
Even if she allows you to touch her and writhes beneath you, which is quite rare but still occurring once in a while, she still has the upper hand.

Maintaining the hold of your eyes, she leans forward and places her lips on your hood.  
Your breathing quickens when she presses small kisses on your nether lips, avoiding the clit and teasing you until your eyes are closed in want, your stand is so unsteady you can barely hold upright any more, and it takes every ounce of your self-control not to beg.

_Do not talk._

Or to grab the back of her head and pull her the place you crave her the most.

_No touching._

You whimper in frustration, in dire need of her. 

"Do you want me, chérie?"

You look down at her, those yellow eyes locking with yours, slowly wrapping you in their depth.  
As you nod desperately in response, her eyes sparkle amusedly.

"Beg. Tell me what you want."

Her accent makes shivers run down your spine like so often. It will probably never cease the effect it has on you. Enthralling, entrancing, alluring. Hers. Just as you are since that one meeting a few months ago.

"Take me."

You form as less words as possible, since your arousal makes speaking hard, and even those two come out rather weak and shaky, not at all with the level of steadiness you'd want them to have.  
She just clicks her tongue in response, an eyebrow rising in critique.

"Chérie, I told you to beg, not to command."

With that, she bites the skin over your hipbones rather sharply, and you moan again, groaning when the other side gets treated the same way, red teeth marks staying where her mouth had been.

"Please... Widowmaker... I beg you..."

"To do what?"

"...to fuck me..."

"Tsk, tsk. Such a foul mouth.”

“Please!”

You almost scream this word, the situation being almost too much to handle.

“Avec plaisir."

She murmurs softly, you can almost hear the smirk in her voice, and descends her lips to your clit, sucking on it much too gentle and sometimes dragging her tongue across it ever so slowly. You moan in frustration and want, and cannot help but buck into her touch, trying to get more pressure.  
Her hands move up and hold your hips in place steadily while her eyes lock with yours shortly, the gaze slightly sharp, ordering not to move, before she focuses onto your clit again.  
Slow licking and an occasional suck have you moan throatily again and again, and you feel her smirk against you.  
She clearly enjoys the control she has over you right now. 

"Do you want me?"

You nod and whimper when she pulls back, licking her lips. Another desperate noise leaves your throat, and you look into her eyes, begging without words.

"You are mine."

"I will always be."

Her gaze softens and she stands up to cup your cheeks. 

"Do not talk, foolish girl."

She says it softly, almost murmuring the last words, and kisses you again. You eagerly kiss back. This time, it feels different than at others, her fingers are tracing your body almost gently, like a lover would. 

_She never was a lover._  
_She only ever came for having sex in the time after that first encounter when she had confronted you about you having saved her from dying in an earthquake._  
_Sure, there were times when she stayed to talk afterwards, but that was rare... But with more and more time, had become more and more frequent._  
_You had learned she was not Amélie, even if some parts of her suggested that, or sometimes she would just seem to be her. And yet... Widowmaker has so many attractive features about her. And the sex had always been hot and great._  
_Love...? You had loved Amélie._  
_You were hers since she was with Overwatch._  
_And Widowmaker?_  
_You did always worry about her and wanted her to be close. You wanted to fall asleep in her arms and go out with her._  
_You wanted her to be happy. You wanted to be the one to make her happy._

You deepen the kiss and pull her close with your hands on her neck, ignoring her order to not touch. You need to. You crave feeling her skin beneath your fingertips.

"Chérie..."

She whispers, a low, hidden growl in her voice, yet she wraps her arms tighter around you.  
Your arousal still runs wild and she knows. And she enjoys the control she has.  
One of her arms drops lower and finds your clit quickly, using her thumb to apply a pressure so pleasurable, so satisfying you moan loudly and buck into her despite self-control.  
She only chuckles, dragging her fingers through your wet folds relentlessly, and you make noises over and over along with it, wanting to hold onto her but using all of your control to move your arms back to the wall instead.

“What a good girl...”

She breaks the kiss and bites your neck hardly, and at the same time, enters you with three of her digits.  
You gasp to the mix of pleasure and pain, and it transforms into moans when she expertly works them inside of you, hitting all good spots just in the right way to make your orgasm approach rapidly.  
Just before you reach the edge, she stops and withdraws her fingers in one fluid motion,.  
You whimper in loss, frustration and want, bucking your hips into the direction her digits just left in, and she bites your neck again, softer this time. 

"Shhhh, chérie. You will come."

She takes you up into her arms and carries you into the bedroom you both have shared so often during her lasts visits, throwing you onto the bed.  
Widowmaker keeps standing in front of it, looking down on you like a spider on her prey, deciding to lick off her fingers while maintaining eye contact.  
You have spread your legs invitingly, propped up onto your elbows and looking at her with lust-filled eyes.  
She smiles and moves closer slowly, deliberately, taking her time for every step.  
She climbs onto the mattress, still keeping her eyes locked with yours, settles herself between your legs and lowers her head.  
You scream and arch your back when her lips wrap around your clit and her fingers enter you again, taking off at the fast pace she stopped at, only this time, she does not.  
Your orgasm crashes into you like waves of pleasure, and your breath hitches in your throat when she uses her fingers to prolong the duration.

Yet even when it is over, she does not halt, but continues her movements slowly until you feel yourself getting aroused again.  
She smirks against you, pulling back, and you raise an eyebrow. Widowmaker only chuckles and sits up, moving her body closer to yours and pulling one of your legs over hers, lifting the other so that your clits touch.  
You hum contently and lift your upper body as well, asking with your eyes to talk, and she gives you permission with a nod.

"May I touch you, Widowmaker?"

"You may."

You wrap your arms around her and kiss those addicting lips, recognising a faint hint of yourself on her, but you don't care, not anymore after so many times you've had sex with this woman.  
She cups your cheeks again, deepening the kiss and parting your lips. As your tongues touch, she starts rocking against you, the tiniest of sighs escaping her when you reciprocate the action.  
Her hands move to your back and leave deep scratches there, to which you gasp into the kiss.  
Your hands wander to her breasts and cup them gently before you place your thumbs over her nipples and then roll them together with your index finger, applying a light pressure you know is not enough for her liking.  
She bites your lower lip to that, and you grin once before using just the one she enjoys most.  
Her movements quicken and her scratching becomes harder, her moans increasing when you meet her hips every time, groaning along with her and trying to bring her extra pleasure with your hands. 

"Ah, oui..." 

She moans when you move your lips to a spot beneath her ear and kiss it gently while still fondling her breasts and rolling your hips against hers.  
Her slow breathing quickens to a faster rate, and you feel her slow heart beating faster as well when you draw on the area above with your fingertips.  
She growls, marks your body furthermore, rocking faster and harder, and you still meet her every time, making the both of you moan together. 

"Come with me, chérie."

Those words and a look bring you over the edge, and her as well.  
You ride out together and she bites your neck again before you both fall onto the bed, panting.  
You want to move closer to cuddle, but do not quite dare, instead merely turn onto your side, looking at her softly, trying to hide the adoration in your gaze as much as possible.  
She looks back at you, an unreadable expression in her eyes, and a slight smile on her face. She sighs and stretches an arm out to you.

"Come here."

You blink in surprise and look at her, confused. She never would cuddle, instead get up and dressed.

_Did I just imagine her words or did she really say them?_

"I will not repeat myself."

Without hesitation, you move closer, into her arms, and lay your own over her body.  
She takes you in, rolling on her side so you face each other, and you place your head under her chin.  
You couldn't be more happy, more content with the situation at hand, feeling her so close to you... albeit she is a bit cool to the touch. Actually not a problem since that calms your heated skin a bit.  
Her hand draws circles on your back, and you hum softly into her collar, gently kissing the skin there.

"I love you."

She freezes, her movements halting, but you still hear her slow heartbeat.

_Fuck._  
_Did I really just say that?_

"I know, chérie."

She sighs and continues her strokes on your back. You smile softly, albeit a bit sad, and kiss her clavicle shortly. 

"How?"

"Quoi?"

"How do you know?"

"The looks you give me when you think I am not aware. And..."

She pauses for a moment, seemingly debating with herself.

"When you saved me in the earthquake, I... think I have a blurry memory of hearing a voice say "Je t'aime, Amélie." I'm still not sure whether it was reality or weird imagination... I couldn't explain either."

"It was not imagination. I felt like I had to say it one time as every aspect of my feelings seemed so... hopeless."

She moves her head back and pulls your chin up gently.  
A look in her eyes tells a bit about her feelings, but nothing you could really understand.  
She kisses you, you kiss back.  
This time, it remains sweet, almost innocent.  
Just the soft feeling of her lips against your own, moulding with them, a gentle caress of your face, your hands on her cheek and back, resting or moving slowly, tracing the blueish skin.  
She moves her hand to your neck and gently scrapes there, eliciting a soft moan from your lips, using that to let her tongue stroke yours slowly, with you reciprocating the action.  
She breaks the kiss after a while, looking into your eyes, and you smile at her, letting the love you always hid show in your gaze.  
After a light chuckle, she begins to smile as well, a soft curve of her lips that adorns her face, making her even more beautiful to you. 

"I love you."

You had to say it again. Because in this moment, this short period of time, it is the only truth that matters.

"I know."

She kisses you again, shortly, but incredibly soft. 

"Are you okay with that? Or will I never see you like this again after today?"

"Like this?"

You raise an eyebrow almost sarcastically, and she chuckles when realising. Right. You are enemies.

_We should be. But her lips always tell a different story._

"Foolish girl, I knew for a long time. I would already have left."

Your smile widens, and you kiss her, just a short one again, yet you wouldn't want any else right now. When you break the kiss, you prepare your next words carefully.

"I know you're basically unable to feel any emotions, so I will never expect anything else but this sort of a relationship we have. I won't ever demand you to feel-"

"Je t'aime, chérie."

Speechless.  
You are utterly lost for words.

"Widowmaker...?"

"Amélie. Call me that when we are like this. And don't expect me to repeat that words often, est-ce clair?" 

You nod, still in a lack of words. She just smiles softly again and draws her index finger from the base of your skull to your cheek, where she rests her hand.  
The brightest smile ever appears on your lips and you hug her tightly, feeling that body against your own, placing kisses on her neck and face, a dry sob of joy escaping you. 

“You are very... clingy.”

“I'm just... so happy I can't even believe this is real. Am I dreaming?"

You whisper, light tears forming in the corners of your eyes.  
You hear her chuckling deviously and feel her shift so she is on top of you, supporting her weight with her arms, dark blue strands falling from her head to the sides.  
With a single movement, she bows down and bites your throat again sharply, making you gasp and moan when she sucks on the spot and blows cool air over it.  
This is real. The pleasure and pain are too sensual to be a dream.  
The sadistic glint is in her eyes again, and slowly, her mouth wanders down your body, biting and sucking in it's way.

"You are mine, chérie. Et tout le monde saura."

Needless to say, she claims you over and over that night. Not that you would complain.

\----

"Morning, love!"

Tracer chirps on the side of your ear when you walk through town to your work, and you smile to the sight of your friend. 

"Heya, Lena. How was your weekend?"

"Fine, Emily and me went to- HOLY, you look like you didn't sleep at all last night!"

Technically seen, it had been 4 hours. And not many more in the nights before.

"Ah, dunno. Couldn't sleep that well. Guess that can happen."

"You know, __... It does seem a little suspicious when you look like you didn't sleep AND wear a scarf in the middle of summer."

"I have caught a small cold on the last mission. Maybe the lack of sleep comes from that as well."

You shrug, trying to get to another topic. 

"Back to you. Where were you with Emily?"

"Ooooooh no love, I will not let you off of that hook. Have you spent the weekend with a special someone who might have caused a lack of sleep accompanied by some hickeys?"

You look at her sadly, acting to hide your secret. 

"Tracer... You know I cannot forget... Her..."

She falls silent immediately, an almost guilty look on her face. You feel bad for having to lie to your friend again. After all that time, Widowmaker and your relationship must still be kept silent.  
And using your feelings for her past self is probably the safest method of avoiding a total fake, as it is a part of the truth, after all.

"Sorry I reminded you of her..."

You smile painfully and assure Tracer it is okay, feeling more and more guilty with every passing moment, deciding to change the subject.

"Tell me about your weekend, then."

She smiles, and starts talking. Seems she had a lot of fun as well.  
Using her hands to describe the time she spent in the amusement park with her girlfriend, her eyes sparkle when she describes all the rides they have been on.  
You listen intently, silently wishing you could spend a day like this with Amélie. But your relationship has to stay secret. It would be horrible if anyone found out.  
She could be forced to kill you. You could be locked away for treason. You would never see again if anyone knew. This is why you could only spend time together in your apartment, watching TV, cooking and eating together, having sex.  
You sigh.

"Does anything bother you, love?" 

Tracer sounds worried.

"I was just in thoughts."

"Which ones?"

"How nice it would be to spend such a day with- ... Amélie."

That was close. You had to be careful now, acting as the little sad lover without a hope that you actually weren't.

"The wound is really that deep? I thought you would've been over it."

"Nah... You know. Widowmaker."

"Pfff, that is not Amélie."

"But she looks like her, sounds like her, acts a bit like her... She rips it open every time."

In reality, that wound is closed. Fully healed off at the weekend and replaced with the joy of having a real relationship with a loved person.  
Acting as if it still was there is fairly easy though, since the first times of seeing Widowmaker back then had indeed deepened it. But those days were long gone.

_"Je t'aime, chérie. Tu es la mienne."_

_Hers._

_"I will always be."_

"But love, as believable as your story is... Say, what is that on your neck?"

The scarf had come off at one point. A point where a rather prominent hickey stands out.

_FUCK._

And as if that isn't enough, you can feel 2 all too familiar eyes on you from up on the rooftops.

_I AM SO DEAD._

**Author's Note:**

> French Translations:
> 
> La Douleur Exquise - The exquisite pain  
> S'il te plaît - If it pleases you (literally) / Please (technically)  
> Avec plaisir - With pleasure  
> Quoi - What  
> Je t'aime - I love you  
> Tu es la mienne - You are mine


End file.
